


For the Love of Chocobos

by Marinawings



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Action, Angst, Blood and Injury, Bromance, Chocobos, Danger, Demons, Friendship, Gen, Hunt Gone Wrong, Hurt Ignis Scientia, Hurt Prompto Argentum, Hurt/Comfort, Kimya - Freeform, Meet Fedge, Poachers, Poison, Spiracorn stampede, Whump, Witch of the woods - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-10 17:34:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20531891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marinawings/pseuds/Marinawings
Summary: While the guys are on a hunt, Prompto takes a risk to save an adorable chocobo--and lands himself and the rest of the bros in danger. Now, the boys must survive the vengeance of bloodthirsty poachers, stampeding spiracorns, mysterious poison, and demons that prowl the night. Each of the guys gets some time to shine, and they must work together and protect each other to make it through a rough couple of days in the wild.





	1. Prompto to the Rescue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second FFXV fic! I loved writing the first one so much that I couldn't stop, and here is the result of that inability to stop. 
> 
> This fic can be seen as a companion piece to Danger and Devotion, but each can be read separately. Like its predecessor, this one features bromance and whump pretty heavily, and I am negating the chocobros' ability to simply summon potions and antidotes when needed. There must be suspense! ;) 
> 
> The first chapter features a shocking lack of Ignis, but don't worry. He is my favorite (I love them all, but Ignis is just...mmm.), so the chapters to come will more than make up for his absence in Chapter One. 
> 
> This fic is finished, and I plan to post a chapter every 2-3 days. Enjoy!

**Prompto**

The sound was unmistakable. It was the call of a chocobo, and to Prompto, lover of all things chocobo, it sounded like a chocobo in distress. 

Prompto pushed himself up from his sleeping bag, rubbing eyes bleary with sleep. He rubbed the back of his neck, stretched, and yawned before crawling toward the door of the tent. The tent was dimly lit by a lantern set on low, and little light filtered through the fabric walls. 

“Guys?” Prompto whispered. 

His reply was met with the sounds of soft breathing from all three of his companions and a snore from Gladio. 

The chocobo call sounded again, wailing mournfully, and Prompto’s stomach clenched. 

“Guys!?” he hissed. 

Noctis stirred and muttered in his sleep, something about a baramundi with glowing eyes. Ignis usually would have been awake by now, but some recent injuries had caused the tactician to sleep longer and harder for the last couple of weeks. 

Prompto sighed and rolled his own eyes. “Guess it’s up to me, then!” He pulled on his boots, crawled to the door of the tent and opened it, and slipped outside into the cool predawn. His friends deserved a little sleep after all. They were all a little bruised and sore from a recent fishing trip gone horribly wrong. And chocobos were really his thing anyway.

Prompto slipped two potions from the cooler next to the tent, switched on the flashlight on his vest, and started out toward the plaintive call of the chocobo. The cry rang out again, and he quickened his pace.

“I’m coming, my feathered friend!” he muttered. “I’m coming!”

He jogged away from the haven, through grass wet with dew, as the light of dawn edged over the horizon.

The chocobo blared again, this time closer, and Prompto grinned with excitement. He maneuvered around a stand of shrubs and hopped up onto a boulder to look around for any sign of the bird in distress. 

There was a light on the horizon, flickering red, and he could now smell smoke and hear the chatter of human voices. A barked laugh echoed over the rocks. 

Instinctively, Prompto turned off his flashlight and crouched low on the rock, moving forward, hopping down from it and climbing another. Now he could see a camp and five men moving around a campfire. He saw the glint of knives in the firelight. And at the edge of the camp, up against a large rock, was a chocobo; one of its legs was tied to a rope that was staked to the ground. 

Prompto crouched low on the rock, wondering who the men were and what they were doing with the chocobo. He hoped they were helping it. Maybe they would find out why it was calling so mournfully.

As he watched, the chocobo threw back its head and loosed another cry. 

“Shut it up!” one of the men yelled roughly. He was a tall, broad man, rivalling Gladio in size, dressed in brown leather from shoulders to feet. 

Another man, short and bowlegged, stalked to the chocobo’s side and threw a leather belt around the bird’s head, dragging it down. 

Prompto clenched his fists and teeth as he watched the man struggle to use the belt to muzzle the chocobo. The guy didn’t have to be so rough, and it was clear the poor bird did not like him. 

“Ow!” The little bowlegged man yelped and jumped back, shaking his hand. “Stupid bird bit me!”

“I’ll handle it, Reck.” A tall, lean man stood up from a seat near the fire. A long, black tool in his hand gleamed in the firelight. He strode casually to the chocobo’s side. “Now are you gonna behave?”

The chocobo stamped and flapped her wings, hissing through the makeshift muzzle.

“Settle down!” the tall, thin man ordered, striking out with his weapon. There was a zap and a spark of blue light, and the chocobo squawked and fell to the ground, shivering. 

Prompto swore. 

“Get the fire hotter, Dirk!” the bowlegged man, Reck, hollered toward a chubby fellow stoking the campfire. “I want my bird cooked well done!”

_Are they going to eat her?_ Prompto chewed on his lower lip. He thought about summoning his pistol and shooting at the guys. If he could scare them away, maybe he could get to the chocobo and set her free. 

His fingers were twitching when fate intervened. 

A loud roar echoed over the rocks and hills off to the west. 

“What was that!?” Dirk exclaimed. 

The big broad man shouldered what looked like a shotgun. “Let’s go find out, boys! Give the fire time to get hotter.”

The five men gathered up their weapons and headed off toward the roar. Prompto waited until they were out of sight, then slid down from the rock and crept across the ground to where the chocobo was tied. 

The bird flinched from him, and he winced in sympathy.

“It’s okay, girl. I’m here to help,” he whispered, carefully patting her shoulder. 

The bird warbled low in her throat and butted her head against his hand. 

Prompto chuckled. “You’re too sweet to be someone’s dinner.” He knelt at her side and worked to undo the knotted rope around her leg. It was tight, and he scraped his knuckles on the rope, but he kept trying until he had it undone. 

As soon as the knot was free, the chocobo hopped to her feet, flapping her wings. 

Prompto stood grinning beside her. “Oh, yeah! Prompto Argentum--champion of chocobos!” 

He was reaching to undo the belt from around her beak when he heard footsteps behind him. The chocobo began to shiver, backing toward the rock behind her. 

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” came a rough growl. 

Prompto took a deep breath. Five to one… Those weren’t good odds. What would Ignis do? What would Gladio do? He knew what Noctis would do--warp strike the lot of them. But he didn’t have that option. He turned slowly to face the chocobo poachers, fingers twitching at his side. 

The big guy laughed. “Look at him. He’s just a kid. And a scrawny one.”

“Step away from our chocobo, boy,” the tall, thin one ordered. 

The fifth man, average-looking in every way, raised a pistol of his own and aimed it at Prompto’s chest. 

Prompto lifted his chin and shook his head. “No! I won’t let you kill her!”

The fifth man cocked his pistol, and Prompto read murder in his eyes. He turned and ripped the belt from the chocobo’s beak. 

“Run, girl, run!”

The chocobo squawked and took off lightning fast. 

Prompto spun and dodged as the shooter fired. The bullet struck the rock wall behind him, and he fired back, striking the man in the leg. He yelled and collapsed, and his four friends rushed Prompto.

They were fast, and the rock wall prevented him from turning and running, so he fought. He shot the bowlegged one in the shoulder and bloodied the chubby one’s nose before the big, muscular one socked him hard in the jaw, dropping him to his knees, and the tall, thin one zapped his arm with the cattle prod. 

Prompto fell back against the rock wall, his arm twitching, his jaw aching. He kicked and scratched, but they tore the pistol from his hand, and the big guy grabbed his shoulders, pinning him to the ground. 

“Give me some space, boys,” the big man ordered his companions. “And check on Rodney!”

The other men scattered, nursing their wounds, swearing and muttering dangerously, while the big man held Prompto down. Slowly, the man smiled, and Prompto’s stomach twisted. 

“So, little guy, how many more of you are there?” the big man asked.

Prompto mashed his lips shut and shook his head. 

The brute hauled him up by the front of his vest and slammed him back against the rock wall, still smiling. 

“I’ll say it again. How many more?”

Regret and fear tangled in Prompto’s heart and sent his pulse racing painfully. He should have waited for the others to wake up. He should have planned better. But at least the chocobo made it out. And maybe the other guys would come looking for him. 

The big poacher drew back his fist, then launched it into Prompto’s stomach. All the smaller man’s breath exploded out of him, and pain burst through his body. He dangled limply in his captor’s grasp, gasping. 

The big man laughed. 

“Make him talk, George!” Dirk yelled. 

The big guy, George, released Prompto, and Prompto collapsed to the ground on his hands and knees, still heaving for breath, trying not to vomit. 

“Who are your friends, and where are they?” George demanded.

Arms trembling, Prompto shook his head. 

“Mute, are you?” 

George brought up his foot into Prompto’s chest, flipping the smaller man onto his back against the rock wall. 

Prompto sat up on his elbows, coughing out a breath. “No. Just don’t like talking to jerks like you.” 

George’s face reddened, and he lunged at Prompto. Prompto rolled and jumped to his feet, spinning around behind George and kicking the bigger man hard in the back. George went stumbling into the rock wall.

Before Prompto could celebrate or look around for a way to escape, pain burst through his back, intense enough to drive him to his knees. And it didn’t stop. It kept jolting through him, forcing a scream from his lips. When it finally stopped, he rolled onto his side, panting, trembling, and looked up to see the tall, thin man standing over him, cattle prod sparking. Then a fist came down at his face, and all went dark.

**Noctis**

“Where is Prompto?” 

Ignis’s question stirred Noctis from a pleasant dream about fishing with Lunafreya in Altissia. He rolled onto his back and stretched. 

“Maybe he had to pee,” Gladio answered from somewhere nearby.

“Or maybe he got tired of your snoring,” Noctis spoke up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“What snoring?” Gladio growled. 

Noctis turned to see the bigger man sitting up from his sleeping bag. “Do you really not know?”

That started an argument, which descended into a pillow fight, which drove Iggy out of the tent to fix breakfast and coffee, and ended with Gladio grabbing Noctis around the neck and rubbing his knuckles briskly on the his royal friend’s scalp.

“Hey!” Noctis slipped out of his friend’s grip and hurried to put on his shoes. “Let’s go find Prompto and see what he’s gotten himself into.”

“Probably got distracted taking pictures,” Gladio muttered.

Noctis crawled out of the tent and stood, bending backwards to stretch his back. “What are you cooking, Iggy? Smells good!”

“Buttery biscuits with eggs and rice,” Ignis answered between sips of Ebony. He cocked an eyebrow over his shoulder at Noctis. “You’d best find Prompto fast. There appears to be rain on the horizon, and I don’t want everyone tracking mud in the Regalia.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Noctis yawned again. Another day, another struggle to feel fully awake before noon. He glanced back at the tent. “You coming, Gladio?”

“Yeah.” The muscular man climbed out of the tent, his face red, voice scratchy. 

Noctis frowned. “Feeling okay, big guy?”

“Allergies or something.” Gladio shrugged. “So which way did our little friend go?”

“You tell me. You’re the wilderness guide.”

Gladio sighed. “Alright. Follow me, your highness.”

**Prompto**

He was cold, and he hurt. Everywhere, everything, it all hurt. 

The poachers were laughing. 

They were jerks. 

Prompto curled into a ball at the base of the rock wall, shivering, groaning. His body was covered in bruises, and he felt sick. He cradled his wrist to his chest, worried it was broken, worried a lot more was broken. 

“Let’s get moving, boys,” the tall, thin man called to his companion. “We’ve got a bird to catch.”

Prompto wasn’t sure when they left. He might have passed out. His head felt funny, and he was having trouble keeping his eyes opened. 

It couldn’t have been long after the poachers left that it started to rain. It was a cold rain, and he could just hear Iggy chiding him for being out in this weather, for going out alone after the chocobo. 

But he had succeeded, hadn’t he? He had saved her… unless the poachers managed to find her again.

He shuddered, biting his lip at the pain that shot through his wrist, his head, his back. His stomach roiled, but he didn’t think he had the strength to vomit, so he just laid there, trying not to cry. He wondered if the poachers would come back and try to finish him off. He wondered about the roar they had heard earlier, if whatever that was would finish him off. 

And the rain was so cold. He couldn’t stop shivering. His teeth chattered. 

When the rain stopped falling on him, he thought maybe he had passed out again; he had to be dreaming. He was warm, too, with something soft curled around him. He must be dreaming about being back in the tent, curled up in his sleeping bag. But the sound he heard wasn’t Gladio’s snoring. It was a soft, warbling coo. 

With effort, Prompto opened his eyes. Yellow. Bright yellow feathers were all around him, sheltering him from the rain. 

Prompto’s heart flooded with warmth. He uttered a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob and scooted closer to the chocobo’s body. She cooed again, peeking at him under her wing. 

When he fell asleep again, she gently pulled him closer with her wing.


	2. Discoveries

**Ignis**

Quiet times were so rare, and Ignis was enjoying this one thoroughly… at least, until he started to worry about the others… and then it started to rain.

Ignis sighed and gathered up his newspaper and cup of Ebony, retreating to the tent. He had already packed up the food and cooking supplies. Being prepared always paid off in the end. 

He settled down in the tent, looking over the newspaper again, reading an article about the exploits of a team of heroic hunters. He wondered if Noctis and Gladio had run into any trouble with wild beasts. And where had Prompto gone in the first place? How far could the little fellow have wandered? 

Voices. 

Ignis climbed out of the tent, balancing his Ebony, shielding its warmth from the chill of the rain. He had a number of questions prepared to ask Noctis and Prompto and Gladio… none of which he would be asking anytime soon, he realized, when he spotted the strangers walking the path near the haven. 

There were five of them, dressed for the outdoors, carrying equipment and weapons. Hunters, he thought, but rougher-looking than most. 

One of them--a tall, thin man in gray--looked up and saw Ignis, saw the camp. He elbowed the short, chubby man beside him, and the men whispered amongst themselves, then the tall one came loping up to the top of the haven, striding into the camp as if he owned it. 

“May I help you?” Ignis asked coolly. 

“Perhaps you can,” the man said. He had a long, saturnine face and cold, pale eyes. 

Ignis was immediately on his guard. 

“My friends and I stumbled across another hunter early this morning, just before dawn,” the man said. “Small blond kid. About this tall.” He held his hand up to his shoulder. “He hurt his leg, so we gave him a potion and left him in a shelter in the rocks to the west. He told us to tell his friends we’d found him. Would you happen to be one of his friends?”

“Little blond fellow, hm?” Ignis held the other man’s gaze and took a lingering sip of Ebony. “Haven’t seen anyone of that description.”

The tall man blinked slowly at him. Something about him reminded Ignis of a lizard. 

“Well… that’s too bad. I hope we can find his friends soon.”

“I hope so, too,” Ignis said.

“Did you happen to see a chocobo, by any chance?” the man continued. “Pretty, plump female. Yellow.”

“No, I’m afraid not.” _And so the plot thickens._

“Not much help, are you, mister?” came a gruff voice. A short, bowlegged man came up behind the taller one. 

“I’m afraid not today.” Ignis shrugged and adjusted his glasses. 

The tall man and the short man exchanged glances, and the tall man narrowed his eyes on Ignis. 

Ignis took another slow sip of Ebony. 

The tall man smiled tightly, the kind of smile that doesn’t reach the eyes. “Good day to you, sir.”

“And to you,” Ignis replied. 

Ignis watched the group of hunters leave, mentally measuring each one’s height and reach, each one’s stride, calculating what must be in their packs based on shape and size. Two of the men were injured, he noticed--one walked with a limp, and the bowlegged one had a bandage on his shoulder. 

Prompto’s handiwork, Ignis did not doubt it. 

He waited until the men were well out of sight before attempting to call Prompto. Prompto did not answer. He dialed Noctis, then Gladio. 

Gladio finally picked up. “Hello?”

“Gladio, where are you? Have you found Prompto?”

Gladio’s voice crackled over the connection, broken up by static. “--n’t yet. Seen signs of--can’t tell if it’s--rain is driving me--Iggy? Can you hear--”

“Gladio, you’re breaking up.” Ignis’s fingers tightened around the phone. “Prompto’s in danger. He might already be hurt. Can you hear me?”

“--gy. Repeat that--Noct said he--Wait!--Call you back--”

Click.

Ignis sighed and pocketed his phone. He took one last sip of Ebony. It might be the last he would have time to enjoy for a while. 

**Gladio**

Someone had camped out in the wilds all night, and they hadn’t done a good job of covering their tracks. Coals still glowed in their fire pit, and strips of gauze--some of it bloody--were strewn around on the ground. 

“What happened here?” Noctis wondered, standing akimbo in the midst of the messy remains of the camp. “Why would anyone camp like this when there are havens?”

Gladio shrugged. “Gutsy. Or stupid.” He frowned. “Or they don’t want to be found.”

“Then they should clean up after themselves,” Noct said, kneeling to examine a bootprint.

“Cocky,” Gladio surmised.

Noctis straightened. “Was that Iggy on the phone earlier? What did he want?”

“I couldn’t hear him real well.” Gladio frowned, feeling a touch uneasy. “Something about Prompto.” 

“Do you think maybe he found him?” 

“No, not from the way he sounded. I think he was asking if we found him.” 

Noctis sighed. “Why’d he have to get lost on the rainiest day in history?”

“Bad luck,” Gladio suggested. 

Noct held his hands to his mouth and yelled, “Promptooooo! Promptooooooo!”

The rain was too loud for sound to carry far, but Gladio thought he heard something. He strode across the camp to grip Noctis’s shoulder. “Listen.”

The prince went still. 

There it was again, an unmistakable sound. 

Noctis frowned. “A chocobo?”

Gladio nodded. “Yeah. And where there’s a chocobo--”

“--there’s Prompto!” Noct finished excitedly. 

The chocobo’s warble sounded again. 

Gladio pointed. “That way!”

They jogged together through the rain, and it wasn’t very far, mere yards from the camp, that they spotted the chocobo, curled up against a rock wall. And sticking out from under her wing was a familiar pair of black boots.

“Prompto!” Noctis yelled, racing forward. He skidded to his knees beside the chocobo, patting the bird’s neck gently until she raised her wing to reveal the small blond guy curled up against her body, shivering. 

Something wasn’t right, Gladio thought. Prompto wasn’t right. He should be bouncing around laughing and taking pictures of the big yellow bird, singing to it, singing about it, going on about how great chocobos are. And he wasn’t. He was just lying there, quiet and shivering. 

Noctis was calling to him, bending over him, and Gladio hurried to join his royal friend. 

“Prompto?” Noctis said gently, touching the blond kid’s shoulder. “Can you hear me?”

Prompto groaned and flinched away from Noct’s hand. 

“I think he’s hurt,” Noctis said. 

“Yeah, I can see that,” Gladio snapped, frowning as he stared down at his little friend. 

Prompto was even paler than usual, and there was blood on his face, running down from his temple. His jaw was bruised, his nose was probably broken, and the back of his vest and shirt were torn and--burned?

“What happened to him?”

Gladio resisted the urge to shove the prince away. “I don’t know,” he answered through his teeth. He touched Prompto’s shoulder. “Prompto?”

The chocobo cooed and curled tighter around the unconscious boy. 

“It’s okay,” Noctis assured the creature. “We’re his friends.”

“Noct?” Prompto stirred, eyelids fluttering toward opening. “Gladio?”

“We’re here, buddy.” Noct touched Prompto’s back. 

Prompto flinched and moaned. 

“Careful, Noct. His back.” Gladio motioned to the tears in Prompto’s clothing. He winced when he saw the reddened flesh they revealed beneath. 

“Did someone… burn you?” Noctis asked hoarsely.

“They shocked him,” Gladio guessed, weighing the evidence, and he was sickened when Prompto nodded, eyes squeezed shut. 

“You’re safe now, Prompto. You’re safe with us,” Noctis said, patting his friend’s arm.

Prompto shook his head. “Five of them,” he bit out, teeth chattering. “Five poachers.”

“You tried to save the chocobo, didn’t you?” Gladio rumbled.

“Yeah.” Prompto coughed.

“We can take her back with us. We need to get back to the haven and potions and Ignis,” Noctis said. 

“Where’s Iggy?” Prompto whispered, opening eyes glazed with pain.

“Back at camp,” Gladio told him. 

“By himself?” Prompto frowned. “Then he’s in danger.”

“We’ll hurry back.” Noctis caught Gladio’s eyes. “Let’s get moving.”

Gladio nodded to the prince and gently took hold of Prompto. Ignoring the chocobo’s protesting squawks, he lifted the smaller man into his arms. He was careful of Prompto’s burned back, and he took note of how the younger man held his right wrist close to his chest. He stood while Noctis calmed the panicking chocobo. 

“Bring her with us,” Prompto murmured, his head against Gladio’s shoulder. 

“Of course!” Noctis scratched the back of the chocobo’s head. “Come with us, girl.”

She followed them through the rain as they headed back toward camp, and Gladios was glad of it, since the bird was intent on shielding them from the rain with her wing. She was one of the tallest chocobos he had seen, so she managed to keep even him relatively dry.

They were halfway back to the camp when he spotted Ignis running toward them, and he heaved a sigh of relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Prompto! I've put him through a lot so far. It's about time for someone to share that load... Ignis's day has been too easy so far, wouldn't you say? >:)


	3. Ignis Stands His Ground

**Noctis**

Prompto was unconscious again by the time they got him into the tent and out of the rain. Ignis ordered Noctis and Gladio around, somehow staying calm, sounding not the least bit ruffled. 

“Here, use this to dry off his head. Careful of the blood. We need to get him out of his shirt and vest. Easy with that arm. That wrist looks broken. Noctis, hand me a potion. Noct!”

Ignis snapped his fingers.

Noctis had been staring at Prompto’s back after Gladio removed the sharpshooter’s shirt and vest. The skin in the middle of it was streaked red and even black in places. He shook himself mentally and hurried to grab a potion, which he quickly passed to Ignis. 

Ignis crushed the bottle over Prompto’s back, sighing as the blackened strips of skin lightened and some of the red faded from the burns. 

“Is he alright now?” Noctis asked, fidgeting with the damp hem of his jacket. 

“Not yet, but better,” Ignis said. “That should take any infection out of the burns. Now let’s take a look at his head wound.”

Several minutes later, Prompto’s back and head were bandaged, and his wrist was set and bandaged in a sling. He had yet to regain consciousness. 

“Concussion,” Ignis surmised. “Perhaps a rather bad one. We’ll have to monitor his sleep. With potions, it’s usually safe to sleep with a concussion, but I’d rather not take any chances.”

“We’ll find the men who did this,” Gladio muttered darkly, crossing his big arms over his chest. 

“He said there were five of them. Poachers,” Noctis said. 

“Yes, I saw them.” Ignis held a wet cloth to the bloody knot on Prompto’s temple. “They asked if I had seen Prompto or the chocobo. I told them I had not. I pretended I did not know him.” He looked up at Noctis and Gladio, holding their gazes intently. “They seem like a dangerous lot.”

“Yeah, look what they did to him,” Gladio growled.

“He managed to injure a few of them, as well,” Ignis said, and Noctis’s heart warmed with pride. 

He gently patted Prompto’s shoulder. “Rest easy, buddy. You’re safe now.”

**Prompto**

He knew it was a nightmare when the chocobo turned her head around backwards and flicked her tongue at him, and her tongue became a snake that tried to bite him. His dream self tumbled off the back of the chocobo and went falling through nothing, yellow feathers flying all around him. Then there were fists, big meaty fists, punching at him out of thin air, and he begged them and begged them to stop, but they just kept hitting him, and he just kept falling--

\--until he woke up.

He sat up with a gasp, sweating and shaking, then wincing and cradling his right arm close to his chest. 

“Does the arm still ache?” came a gentle voice through the darkness, and Prompto looked around to see that he was in the tent, and Gladio was snoring nearby, and Noct was sprawled against the door, and Ignis was awake, kneeling close to him, peering at him closely.

“Yeah. Yeah,” Prompto panted.

“It might for a while, in spite of the potions. Here.” Ignis reached into a cooler behind him and withdrew an ice pack. “This should help. How’s your head? And your back?”

“Better, I think.” Prompto held his breath as he pressed the ice pack gently to where his wrist had been broken. Sweet relief flood his bones with the cold. 

“Lie back down if you think you can sleep again,” Ignis recommended. “You’re safe now.”

Prompto nodded. “I think maybe I…” He frowned. “Where is she? The chocobo? Is she okay?”

“She’s right outside. She hasn’t left the haven since she came here.” Ignis smiled as he settled back into his sleeping bag. “I think she’s quite taken with you.”

“Huh.” Prompto grinned. “I like her, too. Can we keep her?”

“You’ll have to ask Noct. Now rest, Prompto. You need it.” 

“Okay.” Feeling much better--and much safer--Prompto laid down, curled up in his sleeping bag, and closed his eyes. 

**Ignis**

The rain dissipated by dawn, and the morning brought a soft, rosy light that Ignis found pleasing. He was the first to awaken, as usual, and he checked on Prompto first before slipping out of the tent to begin preparing breakfast. 

The chocobo squawked gently at him, tilting her head as if in question. 

“He’ll be alright,” Ignis told her, wondering if he were being silly, talking to a chocobo like this. “He’s still a little bruised, but Prompto will be fine.”

The chocobo cooed and settled back down beside the tent, picking at her wing feathers. 

Ignis began preparing breakfast--toast with eggs and garula sausage and cheese. He brewed himself a pot of Ebony, then dried off a camp chair and sat in it to enjoy a few minutes of solitude before Gladio inevitably awoke next. 

As he had predicted, Gladio was the next to emerge from the tent, and he emerged with a deafening sneeze that made the chocobo jump.

“Allergies bothering you again?” Ignis asked.

“Yeah. A bit.” Gladio stretched. “What’s for breakfast?”

Ignis stood and fixed his friend a plate. “Bon appetit.”

After breakfast, Gladio started his morning jog, and Ignis peeked into the tent. 

“Noct, time for breakfast!” he called. 

The Lucian royal moaned and groaned, but he got up, readied himself and went outside. Prompto was another matter. Ignis went to the little blond fellow’s side and knelt by him, checking his pulse and temperature, both of which seemed normal. 

“Prompto?” he called softly.

“Mmm.” Prompto frowned in his sleep. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Tired.”

“Would you like to rest some more?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I’ll save you a plate of breakfast.”

“Okay.” 

Ignis tucked a spare blanket around Prompto’s shoulders and left him alone. Rest would do him good now that his concussion was no longer a danger. 

It truly was a beautiful morning, the strategist reflected. Fluffy pink and purple clouds drifted over an indigo sky, and the grass and shrubs around the haven gleamed dark green with moisture. 

As he gazed around him, the only ugly things Ignis noticed were the two poachers striding up the path to the haven--the tall, thin man and a big, muscular one. He steeled himself. 

“Noct.”

“Huh?”

“We have visitors,” Ignis informed him calmly. “Find Gladio.”

Noctis’s eyes followed Ignis’s gaze, and his jaw tightened. He nodded. “Got it.” He scurried down from the haven to find his shield. 

Ignis moved carefully and deliberately away from the chairs to stand in front of the chocobo and the tent. He continued sipping his Ebony as the two poachers ascended the haven. 

“Good morning, gentlemen,” he greeted them genially. 

“It appears you’ve found our chocobo,” the thin man replied coldly. 

The chocobo squawked and shrank back against the tent. 

“This is a chocobo, but I’m not so sure that she’s yours.” 

“She’s ours,” the muscular man growled. “Step aside.”

Ignis raised his eyebrows. “For some reason, I don’t feel inclined to do so.”

“It’s in your best interests to get out of our way now.” The thin man took a step forward. He drew a cattle prod out of his jacket and held it before him. 

“We could have a conversation about weaponry if you like. I happen to be something of an expert.” Ignis held the man’s gaze as he took another sip of Ebony. “But if you insist on uncouth behavior, I am afraid I myself will be tempted to abandon my current civility.”

“What’s he talking about?” the big man hissed to his companion.

“He’s threatening us,” the tall man answered mildly, seeming unafraid. 

Their comrades must be nearby, Ignis assumed. That would explain the tall one’s cocksure demeanor. 

“I am,” Ignis agreed. “You need to leave this camp if you value your safety.”

“Look around you, Four-eyes.” The tall man spread his arms wide. “You’re outnumbered.”

“No, he’s not.” Prompto came out of the tent, pistol at the ready, aiming at the tall man’s chest.

“There he is! The little bastard!” the big man shouted. He drew a pistol in one hand and a long knife in the other. 

“This fight appears to be even--to someone who has never seen us fight,” Ignis said calmly. “I suggest, strongly, that you leave.”

“You’re outnumbered!” the tall man yelled, spreading his arms again and looking around with wild eyes. 

“Ah. You’re signalling the rest of your party.” Ignis allowed himself a smirk. “They seem to be otherwise occupied.”

Gladio’s shout of triumph in the distance could not have been timed more perfectly, nor could the cry of terror and pain from a voice Ignis did not recognize.

The tall man lowered his arms, eyes darkening. “No matter. We can still take you.” He nodded to the big guy. “Get ‘em!”

Ignis summoned his daggers and took a defensive stance. “Prompto, get back!”

“I can help!” Prompto insisted. He took aim and fired, striking the big man’s pistol and knocking it from the man’s hand. “Ha!” But his injured wrist was shaking, and his eyes were shadowed by dark circles.

Ignis had to think of a way to get Prompto to retreat--and fast. The tall man with the cattle prod leaped at him, and he dodged, slashing with his daggers and nicking the man’s right arm. 

“They’ll try to take the chocobo!” Ignis called to Prompto, inspired. “Get her to safety!”

Prompto only hesitated a second, then he nodded. “Okay! I’ll find Noct and Gladio!” He grabbed the chocobo’s wing and pulled her toward him, murmuring soothing words to her. 

Ignis had little time to watch them. He was preoccupied with fighting two enemies. The big man had jumped into the fray, swinging his knife wildly at first, then with more skill. Ignis blocked his blows with one hand while fighting the tall, thin man with the other. He flipped backward to avoid a jab of the cattle prod, slinging a dagger at the bigger man, who grunted and dropped to one knee, clutching his left shoulder. 

That left Ignis a little time to work harder on the tall man, but this man was a skilled fighter. Once, he even got past Ignis’s guard, shocking him on the wrist. Ignis ignored that small pain and kept fighting, advancing on the man, spinning behind him, ducking and slicing at the man’s legs, then spinning back around to disarm him when he faltered. 

The tall man jumped back, reaching into his jacket for another weapon, limping, but the big man was back, swinging his knife at Ignis’s face. Ignis dodged, then rolled away from a jab, sprang to his feet and spun to block a blow from the tall man, who had drawn and unfolded a sword. 

A sword changed things. 

Ignis flipped backward, dismissing his daggers and summoning his polearm. He spun it before him, block a blow from the tall man to his left and the big man to his right. His every move was precise, calculated. He kept both men at a distance hoping to tire them. The big man was panting, but the tall one had not broken a sweat. 

The big man seemed to know he was tiring. His blows grew strong and wild with frustration, and he pushed Ignis toward the edge of the haven. Ignis stepped lightly to right just as the big man was lunging at him, and the man went tumbling off the haven with a yell. 

One enemy was dealt with--for now--but the other was still fighting, and fighting well. Ignis flipped sideways, switching from polearm to daggers. He needed to get in close and end this. 

The tall man lunged, and Ignis allowed the man a temporary victory, allowed the blade to get past his daggers and nick his shoulder. But that was all he would allow. He ducked under the blade, spun, and struck upward with his daggers, slicing the man’s arm in two places before disarming the man and knocking him down with a powerful kick. 

Ignis straightened his sleeves and collar, but he kept his daggers in his hands. He looked down at the tall man, who was staring up at him with undisguised hatred, clutching his bloody arm. 

Ignis bent to pick up the man’s sword, then walked to the edge of the haven, keeping an eye on his fallen enemy, to look for the big man. He found this enemy groaning on the ground; one of the big fellow’s legs was clearly broken. 

“Well.” Ignis dismissed his daggers, but kept a grip on the sword. “It would seem you overestimated your own abilities, as well as those of your allies.” He turned to face the tall, thin man. 

To his surprise, the man was smiling. It was a cold smile, and again, the bespectacled tactician was reminded of a lizard. 

“Something funny?” he asked, searching for something with which he could bind his defeated enemy. 

“You haven’t looked very closely at that blade, have you?”

A touch of worry tightened Ignis’s stomach, but he shrugged, maintaining a cool exterior. “Not yet, no.” He glanced at the sword in his hand, noticed the thinness of the blade, the oddly hollow feel of the grip…

“I had it made special. And I named it. Every good blade should have a name.”

“Indeed.” Ignis set the sword down by the tent and took some climber’s cord from Gladio’s pack. The shield always had plenty of survival supplies. He knelt behind the tall man and began tying his hands together behind his back. 

“I call it Serpent’s Revenge’,” the man said, sounding quite pleased with himself. 

Ignis finished the task of tying up the poacher before allowing himself to worry about what that name meant. Judging from the hollow grip of the sword and the reference to a serpent… His guess was poison. He stood and shrugged out of his jacket, checking the cut on his left shoulder. The wound was puffy and red, and something green leaked from the cut along with the blood. This was certainly poison.


	4. Stampede

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this update isn't too soon! Please let me know if I'm updating too quickly. I am just excited about getting this story out there... and the next one. :)

**Gladio**

Gladio and Noctis had routed their enemy, sneaking up behind them as they snuck up on the haven, no doubt intending to attack it and finish off Prompto and steal the chocobo. There were three of them in all, and two of them were already injured--a short, bowlegged guy with a bloody bandage around his shoulder and a plain-looking guy with a bad limp. The third, a chubby dude with a swollen nose, had gone running as soon as he’d spotted Gladio running at him with his big sword with a war whoop. 

Noctis had warped in and easily and tackled the chubby man, knocking him to the ground and knocking him unconscious, cutting off the guy’s yelp of pain and terror. 

Gladio had taken on the bowlegged guy, who also wielded a rather big sword, and they had clashed blades for a bit before Gladio managed to disarm his foe. 

But the third man, the one with the limp… He had vanished. 

Gladio stood over his fallen foe, barely winded, and looked to see that Noctis was doing the same.

“Too easy?” he wondered aloud.

Noctis nodded. “Too easy.”

A sound like thunder rumbled in the distance, and the ground began to shake. 

The bowlegged man staggered to his feet, wide-eyed. 

“Hey! You stay down!” Gladio barked at him. 

“Rodney’s gone and done it now!” the man spat, his eyes darting around nervously.

“Gone and done what?” Gladio demanded as the rumbling noise grew closer, loose rocks bobbing along the ground. 

“Stampede!” the short man hollered, turning and pointing. 

“Oh, no,” Noct muttered, following the man’s gaze.

Gladio looked, too. A dark mass moved on the horizon, flanked by clouds of dust, coming closer. A loud neigh rose above the thunderous noise of hooves. 

Swearing, Gladio pushed the short man down and ran to Noct’s side. “Get moving!” He grabbed the royals arm and started dragging him, running back toward the haven. “Go! Get out of here!”

Noctis shook his head, running along beside Gladio, refusing to warp and leave his shield behind. 

Gladio rolled his eyes and set a fast pace, occasionally reaching over to grab Noctis and pull him forward. He didn’t care to look back and see how their two enemies had fared. His mission was to get Noctis--and preferably, also himself--to safety before they were trampled to death by a herd of spiracorns. 

**Prompto**

Running along through the shrub bushes, the chocobo crouching beside him, Prompto wondered if he had made the wrong decision. Should he have stayed and helped Ignis fight? Would he have been any help? Or would the poachers have gone for the chocobo and complicated everything? Was he right to listen to Ignis? Or was Ignis just trying to protect him? He heard a noise from somewhere ahead, almost like thunder, which was weird since there weren’t any storm clouds in the sky. 

He crouched beneath a scraggly little tree, and, adorably, the chocobo crouched beside him with a soft warble. She needed a name. The way she ruffled her feathers, she looked like a little bush of yellow flowers. What was it Ignis had called that wall of flowers back in Insomnia, so many years ago?

“Fedge,” Prompto whispered, patting the bird’s head. “What do you think about that for a name?”

Fedge whistled her approval and closed her eyes blissfully as he petted her. 

“Promptoooo!” someone yelled. 

Not someone. That deep, growling voice belonged to only one person that he knew--Gladio.

Prompto popped his head out from behind the tree. “Yeah?” His eyes widened as he saw Gladio and Noctis barrelling toward him, a cloud of dust and darkness undulating on the horizon behind them. 

“Move! Run!” Gladio bellowed. 

“Stampede!” Noct yelled breathlessly.

“Ah! No!” Prompto patted Fedge’s side. “Up, girl!”

The chocobo shook her head, feathers ruffling, and stared at him. 

“Oh! Can I--Can I ride you?” 

She cocked her head to one side. So precious!

“Prompto! Go!” Gladio yelled as he reached the stand of scraggly bushes and trees. 

“On it!” Prompto took hold of Fedge’s shoulders and swung up onto her back. She stood, turned, and started running with a hoot of triumph. 

“Woohoo! Go, girl!” Prompto clung tightly to her. He looked over his shoulder to see that the mass of dusty darkness--spiracorns, he could tell now, from their neighing and their horns--were gaining on Noct and Gladio. 

“Slow down, Fedge! Slow down!” Prompto tugged gently on her neck. 

“Warrrk!” said Fedge, and she slowed her pace, glancing back with a nervous look. 

Gladio caught up to the bird, dragging Noct along beside him. 

“Get up there!” he shouted at Noct. 

Noctis shook his head. “No, you! I’ll warp.”

“Alright.” Gladio patted Noctis’s shoulder, then vaulted up onto the chocobo’s back behind Prompto.

“Faster, Fedge!” Prompto yelled. 

The thunder of the spiracorn hooves was almost deafening now, and dust was rising around the chocobo. 

“Fedge?” Gladio muttered as the chocobo lowered her head and picked up her pace. 

“That’s her name,” Prompto said with a shrug. He could imagine Gladio rolling his eyes. 

Ahead of them, Noct warped, a blue streak leading them back to the haven. 

Soon, they had put some distance between themselves and the stampeding spiracorns, but Noct was slowing down, warping less and less often, and Prompto, Gladio, and Fedge were catching up with him. 

“There’s the haven!” Prompto cried, pointing. 

“We’re close!” Gladio leaned around him to holler, “Nooooct! Keep going! We’re almost there!”

Noct waved to him, jogging along for a few steps before warping again. He was almost to the haven, and then, to Prompto’s horror, he stopped, dropping to his knees. 

Gladio swore. “Keep going, Prompto. I’ll get him.”

Prompto nodded, holding tight to Fedge’s shoulders as Gladio leaned down to reach for Noct. The blond sharpshooter assumed the plan was to scoop him up and onto Fedge’s back. It would be a heavy load for the chocobo, but she was big for her breed, and he thought she could handle it. Then they would all be safely back to the haven, and they could help Ignis finish off his enemies if the tactician hadn’t managed to defeat them yet…

BANG!

Something whizzed through the air inches from Prompto’s face. 

Fedge startled, rearing up. 

Prompto grabbed onto her neck. Behind him, he felt Gladio lurch. He glanced over his shoulder to see his muscular friend tumble off the chocobo’s back and land hard on the dirt. 

“Gladio!” Prompto yelled hoarsely.

The big man got to his feet, waving his arms. “Keep going! Go!” 

Prompto didn’t really have much of a choice, and besides, he had to find out if Iggy was okay. They were close enough to the haven that they would all be alright, weren’t they? He glanced over his shoulder. The spiracorns were drawing closer, galloping madly across the rocky terrain. 

Ahead of him, Noct was on his feet, leaned over with his hands on his knees, his back shuddering with harsh breaths. 

“Come on!” Prompto cried. “Jump up, Noct!” He reached down. 

BANG!

Someone fired at them again, and Fedge skittered sideways, nearly throwing Prompto off her back. 

This was not looking good.

**Ignis**

Ignis crushed the antidote flask against his shoulder, waiting expectantly for the pain, nausea, and dizziness to fade away, as the symptoms of poison usually did when treated with an antidote. 

Nothing. 

Frowning, he reached into the cooler of curatives for a different sort of antidote, a stronger one. He administered this one, too, and waited. 

Nothing. 

Maybe this poison was a little resistant. Perhaps antidotes took a while to take effect against it. 

He stood, wincing as daggers of pain sliced through his shoulder. He touched the wound gingerly and felt heat rising from it. He could feel the poison burning through his shoulder, leaking through the rest of his body...

But he did not have time to contemplate the poison problem further. Gunshots, a rumbling noise, and the distressed voices of his friends called his attention away from himself. 

He had to do something; he had to help them. He hurried to the edge of the haven and looked down into utter chaos--clouds of dust, a writhing mass of spiracorns, and--ah!--there they were, his friends and the chocobo, struggling mightily to get to the haven. 

The spiracorns were gaining on them. 

**Noctis**

Noctis felt like his body was melting, molasses in a pot, ice cream on the sidewalk. He could barely make himself breathe, let alone move. But he looked up when he heard Prompto call to him--looked up to see something small fly past the chocobo’s head, saw the chocobo stagger to the left, away from him, saw Prompto struggle to stay mounted. 

“Noooooct!” came Gladio’s familiar bellow. 

He turned to see the larger man barrelling toward him, then into him, grabbing him by the back of his jacket and hauling him up and forward. 

The ground vibrated wildly. The tumult of the stampede was right on top of them. And the haven was close, so close. 

Prompto and the chocobo were almost to the haven. Prompto turned back, eyes wide. 

“We’re coming! Keep moving!” Gladio shouted. He gave Noctis a shake. “Faster, prince!”

“I’m trying!” Noctis protested. He was trying, but his legs seemed to have liquified. His muscles were nothing. Warping had sapped all his strength. 

“Whoa!” Prompto called back to them. “Look out! Dude on the ground has a gun!”

Noctis looked to where Prompto was pointing to see a man lying on the ground, sitting up on one elbow, aiming a pistol. 

“Get him, Prompto!” Noctis yelled. 

Prompto summoned his gun and aimed. “Drop your weapon!” he shouted at the man. “Or I’ll shoot!”

The fallen man yelled something Noctis couldn’t hear; his angry words were lost in the roar of the closing stampede of spiracorns. But he dropped his gun. Thank the Six, he dropped his gun. 

Prompto and the chocobo were scrambling up on the haven’s rocks now, Prompto keeping his gun aimed at the man on the ground. 

Noctis and Gladio were almost there, and Noctis could feel himself getting a second wind. They ran faster, as fast as they could. 

Something flew over their heads and there was an explosive sound behind them, followed by a wave of heat that knocked them to the ground. 

Noctis rolled onto his back and up onto his elbows to see that a flask of fire had burst in the middle of the spiracorn herd, sending some of them flying, charred or still burning. The surviving creatures reared and stamped and broke from the group, scattering, running away from the circle of fire and scorched ground. 

“Yeah!” Gladio whooped, getting to his feet and pumping the air with his fist. He reached to haul Noctis up beside him. “Think that was Iggy?”

“It was Iggy.” Noctis looked up to see Ignis waving to him from atop the haven. 

Then, out of the smoke and dust, a spiracorn came galloping at Noctis and Gladio, its tail blazing, its eyes wild, its horn lowered murderously. 

Gladio pushed Noctis out of the way, all the way to the ground, and summoned his shield. The panicked spiracorn met the shield with a crash, shoving Gladio backward, then up into the air. 

Noctis summoned his blade and attacked the creature from behind, slicing the backs of its legs so that it stumbled and fell to the ground, then Gladio rose up over it, crushing its throat with his shield and finishing it off. 

“You guys okay down there?” Prompto yelled down from where he had joined Ignis at the edge of the haven. 

“Yeah!” Noctis called up. He turned to grin at Gladio. “So… that was fun.”

Gladio smiled for a second, then frowned, leaning forward, panting, grabbing his chest under his right arm. 

Noctis took a worried step forward. “Gladio?”

“Stupid thing hooked me under the arm,” Gladio muttered. He withdrew his left hand. His fingertips dripped red. 

Noctis swallowed a lump of worry that rose in his throat. “Let’s get up to the haven and get you a potion.”

“Yeah.” Gladio nodded. 

They started up the rocks together, Gladio pressing his hand under his arm. 

They had just reached the haven when Prompto cried, “Iggy!” and Noct looked to see his advisor collapse to his knees.


	5. The Problem with Poison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to my readers, reviewers, subscribers, and kudos-leavers! I hope you continue to enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)

**Gladio**

Noctis rushed forward first, nearly stumbling over his own tired legs, and dropped to his knees beside Ignis. 

“Ignis?” Noct asked quietly. 

Prompto stood on the strategist’s other side, touching Iggy’s shoulder, leaning in.

Gladio held back, not wanting to crowd the other wounded man. Besides, the sharp pain in his chest refused to be ignored, and if the other guys had their backs to him, they wouldn’t see the grimace he knew he was wearing. 

“One of our poacher friends--that one--” Iggy pointed to a lanky man who was bound and gagged, tied down to one of their camp chairs. “--has a unique sword. He managed to nick me with it… and the blade was poisoned.”

“Oh, Iggy.” Noctis reached out to steady his advisor. “Don’t worry. We have antidotes.”

“I know. I’ve tried them.” Iggy turned to flash the royal a wry smile. “None of them has taken yet.”

“Is that--is that normal?” Prompto asked worriedly. “That doesn’t seem normal.”

“It’s not,” Ignis confirmed. “It seems to be a rather special blend of poison. And he’s not talking.” He nodded toward the lanky man. 

“Is that because you gagged him?” Gladio asked dryly, moving closer to his friends. 

“Afraid not. He wasn’t talking _before_ I gagged him, except to brag.” Ignis’s jaw clenched, and he closed his eyes for a moment, hunching forward. 

“Gladio’s injured, too,” Noctis blurted. “One of the spiracorns got to him.”

“Where?” Iggy asked, looking up with concern.

“Right up here in the chest, under my arm.” Gladio motioned to the wound. “I don’t think it’s bad.”

“But it could easily be infected. Those creatures are filthy. Prompto, fetch him a potion,” Ignis ordered.

“Aye, aye!” Prompto hurried toward the supply chest, followed closely by the big chocobo whose name was apparently Fedge now. 

“Sit down, Gladio. You’re swaying,” Ignis fussed.

“No, I’m not,” Gladio said… as he swayed. He swore under his breath and stalked to a chair near their captive, plopping down with a glare at the man. “So you poisoned my friend, did you?”

The lanky man stared back at him with cold, blank eyes. 

“Prompto, get a potion for Ignis, too!” Noctis called. 

“Okay!” Prompto replied, gathering several curatives into his scrawny arms. 

“I’m afraid that won’t help,” Ignis told Noct, so quietly that Gladio barely heard him. 

Gladio’s stomach knotted. Was Ignis saying the poison was incurable? No, he refused to believe that. He leaned toward the captive and lowered his voice, “Tell me the antidote for that poison, or I’ll break your legs like the legs of your friend down there.” He nodded toward the edge of the haven, narrowing his eyes on the man. 

The bound man blinked and swallowed visibly. 

“Ignis puts a lot of stock in manners.” Gladio smiled coldly. “I’m not as into them myself.”

The lanky man’s brows rose. Gladio thought he just might be about to crack…

“Ignis!” Noctis cried. 

Gladio looked to see that Ignis had fallen forward on one hand, the other clutching his left shoulder. 

Prompto came running, juggling potions. He tossed one to Noct, and Noct quickly crushed it over Ignis. 

Ignis took a deep breath, then shook his head, remaining hunched over. 

“To Gladio!” Noctis pointed. “Go!” 

Prompto ran to Gladio and leaned over him, crushing a potion over his wound. Some of the pain eased, and Gladio pushed him away. “I’m fine. Go help Iggy.”

**Ignis**

Well. This hunt had grown rather complicated. Ignis doubted that they’d find their quarry--a destructive anak herd--anytime soon. 

It bothered Ignis that he himself was slowing down the team. It bothered him that Noctis and Prompto--whose cuts and bruises _he_ should be tending--were hovering over him and, in fact, keeping him from collapsing entirely.

His shoulder burned with the poison, and he could feel it working its way through the rest of his body--his joints ached, his head hurt, and his stomach cramped and churned with nausea. 

“What do we do?” Noctis asked, his voice barely above a whisper and breathless. “Ignis, what do we do?”

“I think we’ll need help on this one. We need to deal with the poachers,” Ignis told him, forcing himself to think through the pain. He clenched his teeth against a wave of it, clutching his shoulder. “In this state, I doubt we can do it alone. You need to try to get in touch with Cor.” 

Noctis nodded. “Good plan. Do you think he’ll have a solution to the poison problem, too?”

“Possibly.” There _was_ a chance of it. “He has a lot of connections.”

“I’m on it!” Prompto whipped out his phone and jogged a few feet away, dialing Cor’s number frantically.

Good. That was good. 

A fierce cramp twisted his stomach, and Ignis was unable to contain a grunt of pain. He doubled over, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to maintain as much dignity as he could in stillness and silence.

“Iggy?” Noct’s hand squeezed his uninjured shoulder. “Iggy?”

“Check on Gladio,” Ignis managed breathlessly. 

“But--”

“There’s nothing more you can do for me. Check on Gladio.”

“Alright…” Noctis sounded unsure, but he stood and hurried to where Gladio was sitting by the remains of the campfire. 

Without Noctis so close, Ignis allowed himself a murmur of pain, bowing his head as a shudder ran through his body. 

“Okay! He’s on his way!” Prompto burst out, hurrying back toward Ignis. He glanced over the side of the haven. “Ooh… Do you think that guy’s dead?” 

“Possibly,” Ignis replied as the blond sharpshooter knelt next to him. At this point, he really did not care whether the big poacher were dead or alive. At this point, he just wanted to curl up somewhere quiet and comfortable and shut out the world while he dealt with his pain alone. Alas, that was not an option. 

“Iggy?” 

He looked up to meet Prompto’s worried blue gaze.

“Tell me what to do. I want to help.”

Ignis sighed. “Perhaps if you could help me to the tent.”

Prompto nodded. “Alright.” He wrapped an arm around Ignis’s waist and leveraged the strategist to his feet. “You okay?”

_That’s a loaded question._

“For now, thank you.”

Hunched over and shivering, Ignis allowed Prompto to help him stagger across the haven toward the tent. 

The tall, thin man watched his progress, laughing behind the gag until Gladio smacked him in the back of the head. 

“How’s Gladio?” Ignis called to Noctis, who was seated beside the shield. 

“Better,” Noctis told him. “Get some rest, Iggy.”

“I’ll try.” He was already out of breath by the time they reached the tent, and he coughed into his arm as Prompto lowered him to the ground inside it. “Thank you,” he gasped.

“Don’t mention it.” Prompto stayed close, watching him closely.

“Go help the others.” Ignis waved a dismissing hand--a hand that trembled annoyingly. “And you should probably take a potion yourself. You were injured quite recently.”

“And you were injured more recently,” Prompto countered, sitting cross-legged next to him. He frowned. “I stirred up the poachers, and I… I shouldn’t have left you.”

Ignis shook his head. “You couldn’t have prevented this. Those poachers were going to cause trouble, and with our two parties being so close together, such an encounter was bound to occur. You did what you thought was right, as you should have.”

“I shouldn’t have left you,” Prompto said again. 

“You were instrumental in getting Gladio and Noct back safely, and you saved your chocobo,” Ignis argued.

“Fedge.”

“What?”

“Fedge.” Prompto’s frown faded. “That’s her name.”

“Oh. Well…” Ignis felt a smile tug at one corner of his lips. “She’s quite fetching.”

“She is.” 

“I imagine she--” Ignis’s throat tightened, pain knifing through his chest. He leaned forward, coughing violently. 

“Oh, man, Iggy…” Prompto patted his back--unhelpfully, but with the best of intentions. 

Ignis felt as if his lungs were about to explode, and his throat burned. The coughing was spasmodic, unstoppable. His eyes watered as his body convulsed with it.

“Iggy?” Prompto’s hand stilled on his back. 

“Prompto, I--” That was all he could force out, and the coughing took him again, this time in tandem with fresh agony bursting through his injured shoulder, agony that shook a cry of pain from him. He clutched at the shoulder, curled around it, falling onto his side, still coughing and gasping. 

“Iggy!” Prompto shook him. 

He was scared, and Ignis did not want him to be scared. He took as deep a breath as he could, fighting through the pain in his chest and shoulder. 

“Prompto… It’s alright… I’ll be… fine. A little… a little water maybe.”

Prompto nodded, eyes wide. “Okay. Okay.” He hurried from the tent. 

The coughing fit had let up, thank the gods, but the pain had yet to go away, and Ignis slumped on the floor of the tent, shuddering and panting, wondering what new surprise this poison had in store for him. 

**Noctis**

The Lucian heir jumped to his feet when he saw Prompto rush out of the tent, pale and wide-eyed. “What is it, Prompto?”

“It’s Ignis. He’s bad. He needs water. He can’t stop coughing.” The words rushed and tumbled with panicky speed from Prompto’s lips. He began rummaging through Gladio’s cooler. “It’s bad, Noct. It’s bad.”

“How far out is Cor?” Gladio asked, standing gingerly.

“Couple of hours, I think,” Prompto said, snatching a bottle of water out of the cooler. He hurried back into the tent.

“Is there anyone else we can call?” Noctis wondered. “Surely someone somewhere can help us with an antidote.”

“This guy can, but he won’t.” Gladio thrust an angry finger at the tall, skinny man tied to one of their chairs. “I think he’d rather die first.” He narrowed his eyes dangerously. “And I’d be happy to oblige.”

“Hey, hey, hey, wait…” Noctis placed a restraining hand on Gladio’s arm. “We can’t kill him if he knows. We have to do whatever it takes to find a cure.” 

Gladio worked his jaw, muscles hardening all over his body.

“Gladio,” Noctis said firmly. “Think of Ignis. What would Ignis do if he were well?”

“Think his way out of this whole messed up situation,” Gladio muttered, his features softening somewhat. 

“Right. We have to think like him. We have to find a solution without--without killing anyone else.”

Gladio raised an eyebrow. “Else?”

“That guy down there, the big one with the broken leg… He might be dead.”

“Great.” Gladio sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Worst hunting trip ever?”

Noctis laughed mirthlessly. “Might be as bad as our last fishing trip.”

Gladio nodded. “All we’re missing is a big, ugly monster.”


	6. A Plan of Action

**Prompto**

“Iggy?”

Lying atop his sleeping bag, his back to Prompto, Ignis did not reply. His body shuddered with a shaky breath, but he did not speak. 

“Ignis?” 

Prompto knelt next to his friend and touched his arm. He saw then that Ignis’s eyes were closed; he was sleeping, but it wasn’t a peaceful sleep. The strategist’s breaths were rough and uneven, and his frame shook every once in a while with tremors. 

“Aw, man.” Prompto ran a hand through his hair and set down the water he was carrying. “What do I do, Iggy?” He examined the prone man’s unconscious form and noticed the tear in his shirt and jacket, over his left shoulder. Carefully, he pushed back the fabric to reveal an ugly gash, swollen and discolored, sluggishly leaking blood and a green fluid that he suspected was the poison. 

How would Ignis treat such a wound? Prompto sat back on his heels, tapping his lower lip as he thought back on wounds he had seen Ignis treat. Washing them seemed to be a priority, so he searched around the tent for a clean handkerchief and soaked it in water, then gently maneuvered Ignis out of his jacket. He unbuttoned the tactician’s shirt and pushed it back from the wound, sucking in a breath through his teeth when Ignis tensed his muscles, eyelids fluttering behind his glasses. 

“Easy, buddy,” Prompto murmured. “It’s me, Prompto. I got ya, buddy.”

“Prompto…” Ignis sighed, the tension easing from his body.

“Yeah, man. Just gonna clean your wound here, okay?”

“Mmm.” Ignis’s fingers twitched. “Good.”

“Cor should be here before sunset. He’ll be a big help, I think. We’ll get you better in no time!” Prompto hesitated, the handkerchief hovering over the ugly wound. 

“Alright.” Ignis’s voice was so faint, Prompto almost didn’t hear it. 

“Okay, so… Here I go.” Holding his tongue between his teeth in concentration, Prompto gently touched the handkerchief to the wound and began wiping up the blood and poison. 

Ignis groaned, grimacing, his fingers clawing at the sleeping bag. 

“Sorry!” Prompto stopped, wincing in sympathy. “Sorry!”

“Keep going… needs cleaning,” Ignis breathed through his teeth. 

“Okay.” Prompto steeled himself and continued washing the wound. 

Ignis’s whole body stiffened, and he moaned behind locked teeth, drawing his knees up toward his chest. 

“It’s okay, Iggy. Almost done.” With his free hand, Prompto gripped Ignis’s arm and squeezed it. 

“Wound’s… a little tender,” Ignis panted. “Poison… tends to do that.”

“I know. Remember my wasp sting a few weeks ago?”

Ignis gasped out a little laugh. “Wish I could forget that whole trip.”

“Me, too! We all almost died. Especially you…” Prompto’s throat tightened. Again, Ignis’s life was in the balance. Again, protecting his friends had put the advisor in danger. 

“Maybe… we should hire a full time surgeon,” Ignis suggested wryly.

“Ha… Yeah.” Prompto frowned down at Ignis’s wound, looking closer. “Your shoulder’s still bleeding a little. Should I bandage it?”

“No,” Ignis answered hoarsely. “Poison needs to drain.”

“Okay…” Prompto wished he knew more about the treatment of such injuries. 

“How’s it going in here?” Noctis slid into the tent and sat down nearby, eyes on Ignis, brows lowered. 

“Just cleaning up the wound a little. There. All done!” Prompto withdrew the handkerchief. It was filthy, covered in blood and poison. 

“Be careful with that… don’t want any of you to…” Ignis’s voice broke off in a gasp.

“We’ll be careful,” Noctis assured him, scooting closer. 

Ignis opened his eyes to look up at Noct. “Where’s Gladio?”

“Guarding the prisoner,” Noct told him. 

“His wound?”

“Healing.”

Ignis sighed. “Excellent.”

“I have an idea,” Noct declared.

Prompto looked askance at him. “What is it?” 

“Remember that woman we met in Malmalam Thicket? The one who brews curatives?”

Prompto raised his eyebrows. “The Witch of the Woods?”

“Yeah, her, Kimya. I was thinking… She knows a lot about medicines. She’s a little strange, but of everyone we know, I think she’s the most likely one to be able to help us with this,” Noctis explained. “Maybe one of us could go see her and find out if she knows an antidote for this particular poison.”

“Take the sword with you… or Prompto’s handkerchief,” Ignis suggested. “She’ll need…” He clamped his lips shut for a moment, then he breathed out a shaky sigh and continued. “A sample. She’ll need a sample.”

“That’s what Gladio said. He’s looking at the sword now.” Noctis laid his hand on Ignis’s arm. “Rest, Specs. We can do this. We’re gonna save you.”

“Don’t forget… be on your guard. The other… The other poachers.” Ignis groaned and closed his eyes, his body shuddering. 

Prompto met Noct’s eyes and saw his own desperate worry mirrored there. 

“We’re being careful. Gladio’s on guard. Cor’s on his way.” Noctis squeezed Ignis’s arm. “_Rest_, Ignis.”

Ignis took a deep breath and seemed about to say something, then abruptly, he went still.

“Iggy?” Prompto quickly felt for his friend’s pulse. It fluttered under his fingers “Oh, man, that scared me. He’s still…” He bit his lip. “He’s still with us, Noct.”

“I’m going to see her, the Witch of the Woods,” Noct said determinedly. “I’m going right now.”

“Malmalam Thicket is a few hours away, even if you take the Regalia,” Prompto pointed out, feeling almost sick with worry. “Do you think…” He looked down at Ignis, who lay slumped in fitful unconsciousness, fingers still clutching convulsively at the sleeping bag. 

“Will he last that long?” Prompto whispered. 

Wide-eyed, Noctis met his gaze. The Lucian heir shook his head. “I don’t know…” He lifted his chin. “I’ll take him to her if I have to.”

**Gladio**

The sword was a nasty piece of work--and an example of fine craftsmanship, Gladio thought. After he set it aside, he experienced an assault of restlessness, so he stood and started pacing. Annoyingly, the chocobo--Fedge, Prompto called it--started walking beside him, mirroring his steps, watching him as if she expected something from him. He looked past her, toward the tent, wondering what was going on in there, if Ignis was still okay, if Noctis was ever going to come out so they could get started on their trip to Malmalam Thicket. 

“Wark?” Fedge lowered her head, her beak inches from his face.

“Cut it out!” Gladio barked, pushing her away.

The chocobo withdrew with a sad little whimper that created immediate guilt in Gladio’s heart. 

“Sorry,” he muttered, motioning her closer, then scratching her behind the ear. 

She warbled softly, closing her eyes. 

“This is all ‘cause of you, you know,” Gladio told her. “You and Prompto--two feather-headed idiots.” He sighed, scratching the bird’s neck. “You’re cute, though. We probably would have run into those poacher jerks anyway, and if they’ve always been like this, it’s about time somebody taught ‘em a lesson…”

“Gladio, change of plans!” Noct announced, bursting out of the tent. 

_Oh, gods… What now?_

“What’s the plan?” Gladio asked, stepping around the chocobo and crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I’m taking Ignis with me. I’m taking him to see Kimya,” Noctis declared, sounding suddenly very much like royalty. 

“Hmm…” Gladio rubbed his beard. “Is this such a good idea?”

“Gladio, you haven’t seen him.” Noctis moved closer, lowering his voice. “He doesn’t… I don’t think we can wait much longer.”

Gladio’s stomach twisted. “What do you mean?”

“This is serious. He could die… and soon. I have to take him now.”

“Why you?”

Noctis sighed and shrugged. “I just… Prompto needs to stay with the chocobo, and you need to stay with Prompto, in case any of the other poachers come around. And Cor will be here at the haven soon. You and Prompto can work with him to handle the poacher problem, while I drive Ignis to the Witch of the Woods.”

Everything about the plan was making Gladio’s head hurt. “I don’t know about this, Noct. Getting to Malmalam before sunset… That’s cutting it close.”

“I can do it.”

“_Iggy_ could do it, without adding a single scratch to the Regalia,” Gladio pointed out grimly. 

“I can do this, Gladio!” Noctis insisted. “I’m _going_ to do this!”

“Maybe I should go with you… I’m your shield after all.”

“And leave Prompto and the chocobo--”

“Fedge.”

“--and leave Prompto and Fedge here without backup?” Noctis set his jaw. “This is an order, Gladio. You stay here with them; I take Ignis to the witch.”

“I don’t like--”

“Dude, we don’t have _time_!” Noctis shouted, shoving Gladio hard in the chest. 

Gladio stared at the smaller man, weighing his options. Should he push Noct back to keep him in line? Yell back at him how dangerous and chancy this plan sounded? Or go along with the order from his prince… his king?

“Just _look_ at him!” Noct continued, eyes wild. “Go into that tent and look at him and tell me we have time for a better plan!” 

“Fine. I will.” Gladio shouldered past the younger man and stalked to the tent. Surely, Ignis couldn’t be hurt that bad, that fast, surely not. He ducked into the tent and froze at the sight he saw--Ignis on his back, shuddering, turning his head restlessly from side to side, panting, with Prompto leaning over him, murmuring soothingly, checking the open wound on his shoulder. 

Prompto looked up and saw Gladio. The blond kid’s eyes were welling with tears.

“Why hasn’t--why hasn’t anyone bandaged his wound?” Gladio demanded hoarsely.

“He said the poison needs to drain,” Prompto told him faintly.

“Oh.” 

Noctis pushed into the tent, nearly knocking Gladio over. “Well? What do you think now?” 

Gladio sighed. “Go start up the Regalia. I’ll bring Ignis.”


	7. Journey to the Witch

**Noctis**

The wind whipped through his hair as Noctis drove the Regalia at high speeds down the road to Malmalam Thicket. A couple of times a minute, he glanced back at Ignis, who was slumped across the backseat, strapped in, breathing raggedly, shivering, clutching at his shoulder, clutching at his stomach. Each time Noctis checked, his friend was still alive… still unconscious… still in pain. 

Around them, the light was fading from the sky. Sunset was imminent. 

Noctis pressed his foot harder on the gas pedal. His heart leaped into his throat when he barely kept the car on the road around the next curve. The back tires slid and skidded, and his fingers tightened white-knuckled around the wheel as he guided the Regalia back onto the asphalt. 

“Sorry, Ignis!” he called back to the unconscious man. “You never would have made that mistake!”

**Prompto**

As he stood back from Gladio and Cor, watching Cor’s face, Prompto thought he’d never seen the Immortal look so tired. Cor stared down at their captive poacher, listening to Gladio relay the tale of their past couple of days. The Immortal’s face was blank, but he rubbed his chin, shoulders taut. 

“And the other one is dead?”

“Yeah.” Gladio crossed his muscular arms. “Apparently, he went over the edge during his fight with Ignis. Broke his legs.” He scratched his beard. “Stampeding spiracorns finished him off.”

“So none of you killed him,” Cor said wearily.

“Not directly, no.” Gladio met Prompto’s eyes across the camp. 

Prompto shrugged. 

“And this one--” Cor pointed to the bound man. “This one poisoned Ignis.”

“Yeah,” Gladio confirmed.

“And Noctis has taken off with Ignis in the Regalia to seek the help of a so-called ‘Witch of the Woods.’”

“Yep.”

“And the two of you are here--”

Gladio hesitated.

“To help you round up the poachers and bring them to justice,” Prompto volunteered, stepping forward. “And to protect Fedge.”

Cor’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Fedge.”

“The chocobo.” Prompto clicked his tongue and motioned to her, and she squawked and jogged across the camp to his side. “This is Fedge.”

Cor sighed. “The bird that started the whole thing.”

“Well, yeah…” Prompto suddenly felt uncomfortable, like he had been caught peeking at Noctis’s quiz at school. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t let those poachers kill her. That would be wrong.”

“Of course,” Cor said flatly.

“Prompto was reckless,” Gladio said, and Prompto frowned at him, feeling betrayed. “But,” the shield continued, “he was brave.” He shrugged. “Way I see it, we would have run across these jerks anyway.” He kicked the leg of the chair where the tall, lanky guy sat tied. “Prompto just sprang that trap early.”

Cor just stared at Prompto quietly for a moment, and the blond sharpshooter resisted the urge to squirm under his scrutiny. Then he sighed again. “Well. There’s no changing what’s done, whether it was brave, foolish, or a little bit of both. We need to clean up this mess now and hope to the gods Noctis gets Ignis to this witch safely--and we’d better pray she has a cure.”

**Ignis**

Ignis sucked in a breath and lifted his head, his dreams of flying across the ocean to Altissia interrupted by the cessation of movement. “Noct?” His voice emerged rough and shaky. “Where are we?”

“We’re here, buddy. Hang on.”

Dizzy, nauseated, Ignis somehow managed to push himself to a sitting position in the back of the Regalia. That, in itself, was disorienting--being in the back seat. 

The sky above him was nearly dark, and insects and creatures buzzed and rustled in the plants and trees that seemed to have swallowed up the Regalia. 

Noctis approached his door and opened it, looking jittery and wild-eyed, as if he had drunk too much Ebony. “The Regalia won’t go any further. I’m afraid we’ll have to walk the rest of the way.”

“Hmm.” Ignis gave a short nod, resigned. He carefully swung his legs over the seat and outside the car. Even that slight movement sent cramps through his body, their epicenter his shoulder. He sat hunched over for a moment, hands on his knees, mastering himself, mastering his pain. “Fine evening for a stroll,” he said finally, breathlessly.

“I brought this.” Noctis reached into his jacket and withdrew a hi-elixir. “Maybe it will give you the strength you need.”

“Such curatives are precious commodities.” Ignis shook his head. “Don’t waste it on me.”

“Too late.” Noct reached out and crushed the elixir over Ignis’s shoulder before the strategist could stop him… which he doubted he could do, anyway, in this state. 

Almost immediately, Ignis felt a surge of strength. With the help of the car door and Noctis, he got to his feet and took a deep breath of crisp evening air--the easiest breath he had taken for hours now. The cramps in his stomach faded, and the pain in his shoulder simmered to a dull ache. He knew the feeling would be temporary unless Kimya could help him, but he savored it. 

“Thank you, Noct,” he whispered. 

“Don’t mention it. Come on. We only have a few minutes until sunset.” Noctis grabbed his arm and pulled him forward, and they began the trail to the House of Hexes. 

**Cor**

Night was falling. It was now too late and too dangerous to track the other poachers, but at least they had found one more of them and dragged him back to camp--a portly fellow with a broken nose and an array of bruises. Unlike the tall, thin poacher Ignis had captured at the haven, this man was talking, practically babbling, as Cor and Prompto hauled him between them up the rocks to the top of the haven. 

Prompto and his chocobo had proved themselves useful in tracking down this particular poacher, and with their help, Cor had covered enough ground to apprehend him before dark. Gladio had remained behind to guard the camp and the prisoner, who had the look of someone who would try to escape and could possibly succeed. 

Cor grabbed a handful of the stout poacher’s collar and dragged him to the chairs at the campfire, throwing him to the ground at the other poacher’s feet. 

“I take it you know this man,” he confronted the tall, thin one. “He says your name is Nickel.”

The thin man’s eyes narrowed.

“Says his name is Dirk. Says the two of you and three of your friends have been out here poaching chocobos and engaging in all sorts of other activities--including robbery, harassment of locals, and, now, attempted murder.”

“I’m sorry, Nick!” the chubby man blurted, scrambling to his knees. “He made me tell him! He made me! He’s the _Immortal_!”

Nickel’s pale eyes flickered.

“That’s right. I’m him.” Cor disliked monniker on principle, but in this case, he could use it to protect Noctis and his team. “It’s time you started talking. You beat and tortured a member of the Crownsguard. You poisoned a royal advisor, also a member of the Crownsguard. I need you to tell me everything you know about that poison and its antidotes if you want any chance of leaving this camp alive.”

The thin poacher seemed to shrink in the chair, eyes widening.

Cor looked at Gladio, who stood behind the chair. “Gladio, get him up. Bring him to the edge. Nickel and I are going to have a little talk.”

**Noctis**

Trekking through the darkening woods, Noctis and Ignis managed to sneak around a cluster of monsters at the edge of the river, then past another, smaller herd of spiracorns. But now, the sun vanished from the horizon, and the path directly ahead of them--the path to Kimya’s shop--was wavering with darkness and a wet, gurgling growl, a sign of imminent demons. 

Noctis grabbed Ignis’s arm and motioned for the other man to crouch with him behind a shrub. “Demons ahead.”

“How many?” Ignis asked, pushing his glasses up his nose. 

Noctis peered around the bush and watched as four creatures rose up out of the ground, glowing purple. “Four. Gelatins, I think.” He patted Ignis’s uninjured shoulder. “You stay here. I’ll take care of them.”

Ignis’s hand shot out and latched onto his arm with surprising strength. “No. Wait,” he hissed. “Four of them could overwhelm you. They’re not to be trifled with.” He shifted against the shrub, looking around it. “I have a plan.”

Noctis felt himself smile in spite of his sudden, near-crippling worry for his friend. “Of course you do.”

Ignis smirked. “I am your advisor and tactician, after all. Now listen to me. Those creatures are weak against lightning. Did you bring any flasks?”

“A couple.”

“Good. They’re also unwieldy creatures. It’s easy to blindside them. If we stay close, we can do that together and deal more damage. But be on your guard. They’re faster than they look. Be read to parry any strikes in case they try to attack _you_ from behind.”

Noct nodded. “Got it.”

“So step one--throw a flask of lightning. Step two--sneak up behind the nearest one while they’re stunned and weakened, then move onto the next, then the next, then the last. If they see us and come for us, be ready to parry.”

“Sounds like an Ignis plan.”

“That’s because it is.” Ignis moved forward, silent and swift. “Ready, Noct? On my mark…”

The gelatins milled about on the path, glowing in the dark. 

Ignis watched them with narrowed eyes, then nodded and whispered sharply, “Now!”

Noct stepped out of the foliage and tossed a flask of lightning. It shattered among the gelatins, sparking brilliantly in the night. The gelatins hissed and shuddered, shrinking back from the explosion, seared and scattering. 

“With me!” Ignis hissed.

Noctis followed his strategist in a crouching run across the forest floor. Ignis led him to the closest gelatin--and as Ignis had planned, the creature had its back to them. Ignis nodded to him, and they leaped forward in a coordinated flip, striking the creature hard from behind. It hissed and spun to face them, but between their blindside strike and the lightning spell, it was nearly spent, and Noctis finished it off easily.

While he was delivering the finishing blow, another gelatin crept up on them from the side, striking with its blunt, powerful limbs, but Ignis parried with his daggers crossed before him and spun around behind the creature, slashing up and down its back. Noctis turned to help, but Ignis shook his head and pointed to another gelatin that still hadn’t spotted them. 

Noctis warped closer to the third enemy and attacked it from behind, then warped to a safe distance and threw another lightning spell, finishing it. He looked around, adrenaline pumping through his veins. 

“Where’s the last one?” he called to Ignis. 

“I don’t see it!” Ignis called back breathlessly. He had just finished off the second gelatin, and he spun to face Noctis. His eyes widened behind his glasses. “Noct! There! Behind you!”

Noctis spun, parrying the blow from the last gelatin just in time. He wasn’t quite fast enough to return the blow, though, and he went sprawling on his back in the grass. The gelatin was on him fast, raising its gelatinous arms to strike. 

Ignis came racing along the path, flinging his daggers. They struck the gelatin and slowed it down, but didn’t seem to do much damage. However, the attack gave Noctis time to get to his feet and spin around behind the creature. Ignis joined him, and they executed a graceful double attack, one they’d practiced in training what seemed like a hundred times. The move worked perfectly, tearing through the creature’s slimy skin and weakening it enough for them to finish it easily. 

As the dead thing melted into the ground, Noctis turned to his advisor with a grin. “Pretty good moves, right?”

“You did well,” Ignis told him, panting, but smiling. 

“Let’s go.” Noct patted Ignis’s arm. Then he frowned. His friend’s skin was almost hot to the touch. “You feeling okay, Specs?”

“Mmm.” Ignis frowned. “I’m not sure how to answer that question.”

“Come on. Let’s get moving while you still can.” Noct started back up the trail, motioning for Ignis to follow, anxiety joining the adrenaline spurring him on.

Ignis followed, but went abruptly silent, seeming to measure each step carefully, until finally, he stopped walking and closed his eyes. 

Noctis slowed his pace. “Ignis?”

“Noct, I…” Ignis groaned, his face going pale in the beam of Noctis’s flashlight. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, reaching for his wounded shoulder.

“Hey, hey, take it easy.” Noctis strode to his advisor’s side and placed a steadying hand under the other man’s elbow. 

“I’m going to have to. I’m afraid I--” Ignis grimaced and doubled over, clutching his stomach. “I apologize, Noctis. I can’t seem to--” Ignis pushed the Lucian heir away from him and staggered a few feet into the bushes before falling to his hands and knees and vomiting in the grass. 

“Oh, man.” Noctis followed him, but held back a bit, not wanting to embarrass the other man. “You okay?”

“I’m sorry, Noct. That was… undignified.” Ignis sat back on his heels, wiping his mouth on the back of one hand and pressing the other to his stomach. 

“No, don’t apologize. You’re sick. Come on.” Noctis hurried to help Ignis to his feet. 

“The hi-elixir,” Ignis panted, “seems to be wearing off.”

Noctis felt cold to his bones. “We have to hurry.” He started quickly up the hill, practically dragging Ignis along with him. 

“Noct…” Ignis’s hand clutched spasmodically at the sleeve of Noctis’s jacket, and he uttered a soft murmur of pain. His eyes rolled back in his head, and his knees folded. 

“Ignis!” Noctis shouted. “Ignis!” He caught the other man to him, lowering him gently to the ground. “Ignis, wake up! We’re almost there! We’re almost there!”

But Ignis slumped limply against him, shivering in spite of the heat rolling off his skin. 

Noctis tried to stand, tried to lift Ignis into his arms. It was a struggle. He wished he had brought Gladio with him. He definitely should have brought Gladio. He finally managed to lift Ignis over one shoulder and haul him off the ground, and he started back up the trail, struggling to keep his friend from falling.


	8. Vindicta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... in which I try with varying degrees of success to write dialogue that sounds like Kimya and Ignis has a Very Bad Time

**Gladio**

The poacher Dirk kept babbling and pleading until Gladio told him to shut up, then the chunky little dude went silent, sniffling. Gladio rolled his eyes and straightened from where he had crouched by the fire. He had been watching Prompto for the last few minutes. Prompto had been quiet, which was certainly not normal, and the little blond guy had gradually slid away from the campfire and toward the chocobo, who stood by the tent, watching everything with bright black eyes. 

Now Prompto was petting her, but he was doing it distantly, his eyes staring off into the dark night around them. 

Gladio sighed. He didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to have a conversation about feelings… but it looked like Prompto needed one. He strode casually across the camp to stand close to his friend, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“So… What’s up, Prompto?”

Prompto spared him a glance, then went back to staring at absolutely nothing. “Is Cor… Is Cor torturing that guy, the one who shocked me?”

“That Nickel guy is the one who shocked you?”

“Yeah,” Prompto said quietly.

Gladio ground his teeth, hands curling into fists. “I _hope_ he’s torturing him.”

“I don’t know… This has all gotten out of control.” He looked up at Gladio with wide, wounded blue eyes. “I thought I was doing the right thing, saving Fedge, and I’m glad I did, but… A man is dead, Gladio, because of me.”

“Now wait a minute--”

“It’s true. It’s a fact. And if Cor kills the other one--”

“He won’t kill him. He’s a professional.”

“And if anything happens to Ignis--”

“Ignis is going to be fine,” Gladio burst out, surprising himself and making Prompto jump. He let out a slow breath through his nostrils, working his jaw. “Ignis is going to be fine,” he repeated, slower, quieter.

Prompto gave a short nod, but he looked away, leaning his head against Fedge’s. 

“You did good today, helping Cor track that guy.” Gladio nodded toward the blubbering poacher. 

“I guess.” Prompto shrugged.

“You did. Noctis would be proud. Ignis would be proud.”

Prompto was quiet. 

“Don’t make yourself sick feeling guilty,” Gladio warned him. “You didn’t ask these guys to be jerks. You didn’t ask them to try to kill you and Ignis. They’re getting what they deserved.”

“Maybe.” Prompto finally met his eyes again. “But it’s all so… dark.” He shuddered.

“Yeah… but dark never lasts forever,” Gladio told him. “At the end of night, there’s always a light.”

**Noctis**

The interior of the House of Hexes was smoky and dim, lit by a few candles here and there, a flickering fireplace, and one lantern that swung annoyingly low. The air in the front room of the house was saturated with the scents of herbs and spices. 

“Get him on the table. There we are.” Kimya, white-haired and black-robed, guided Noctis in laying Ignis on the hastily cleared table in the center of the room. 

Noctis bit back a curse as he banged his head for the third time on the lantern, sending lights and shadows spiraling around the room. 

“Oh, dear, this is bad, very bad. I haven’t seen anything like this since the hunters used to trust me with their wounded,” the woman murmured, hovering over Ignis. 

Ignis’s face had paled, and he breathed in short, sharp pants, his chest jerking with the effort. Occasionally, he shivered violently or murmured something unintelligible, tossing his head to one side or the other. 

“Poison, it is?”

“Yes,” Noctis panted. “Yes.” His legs and back ached from hauling Ignis’s deadweight to Kimya’s house. The room seemed to spin, and he grabbed his head as his pulse pounded in his temples, dark spots flashing across his vision. 

“Sit down before you faint, dearie,” Kimya ordered, nodding to a wooden chair nearby. 

“Okay. Thank you.” Noctis sank into the chair, breathing deeply, waiting for the world to stop spinning. 

Kimya swiftly unbuttoned Ignis’s shirt and pulled it back from his chest, pushing it away from the wound on his shoulder. “Oh my.”

“It’s bad,” Noctis told her, rubbing his face with both hands.

“That I can see, dearie.” The woman began scurrying around the room, snatching jars, bottles, and packets from shelves and cabinets Noctis had not noticed. “We’ll have to work quickly if we want to save this one.”

We? Noct’s eyebrows rose. 

“Take a few more deep breaths, drink some water from the pitcher on the side table, then come help me keep him still and calm,” Kimya continued, setting an array of medicines and instruments on the table beside Ignis. 

Noct’s heart lurched in his chest at the sight of the woman brandishing a knife that gleamed in the firelight. 

“Did you hear me, young man? Get your sip of water, then come help me. We must drain the poison immediately, we must, or your friend will leave us forever.” 

Noctis swayed to his feet, casting about for the pitcher. He found it and nearly knocked it over with shaking hands, then took a gulp of cool water straight from the clay vessel. It was the best water he had ever tasted. 

“Hurry now!” Kimay prodded.

Noctis rushed to her side. “Tell me what to do.”

“First, I’ll clean the wound, then I’ll need to cut it and drain it. That’s the tricky part. If he remains unconscious, it will be easier. But if he awakens or feels the knife in his sleep, you’ll need to hold him down for me, you will.”

Nausea roiled in Noct’s gut. “Okay. Whatever… whatever I can do to help. Just please…” His voice broke, and he pressed his knuckles to his mouth, tempted to bite them. “Please help him.”

“Try, I will,” Kimya said, flashing him a look of sympathy. “I know the type of poison it is, so I can try to fight it off. If I knew which one exactly, it would be easier, it would.” 

Noctis nodded, looking down at the face of his longtime friend and advisor, a man he trusted with his life, a man who had guided and protected him, a man he considered his brother. “Whatever it takes.”

**Prompto**

Gladio’s poetic and inspiring words should not have surprised Prompto; the big guy was an avid reader, after all. Prompto caught himself staring at his friend with intense gratitude. 

“Thanks, man.” He nudged the shield with his elbow. 

Gladio shrugged and looked toward the edge of the camp, toward the shadows that were Cor and Nickel. 

This far back, in the dark, they couldn’t really tell what was going on over there, couldn’t hear what Cor was saying to the lanky poacher, couldn’t see what he was doing. 

Prompto kept petting Fedge, trying to master his anxiety. He couldn’t stop thinking about all the terrible things that could have already happened to Noct and Iggy. Noct could have crashed the Regalia. Maybe they hadn’t reached the House of Hexes before nightfall; maybe demons had caught up with them. Maybe the other poachers were out there, following them. And maybe the poison in Iggy’s body had--

“Vindicta!” Nickel suddenly shouted, his voice hoarse and harried. “It’s vindicta!”

Cor came back into the light, dragging the tall poacher along with him. He tossed the criminal down near the campfire, then made his way to Prompto and Gladio. 

“Any word from Noctis?” he asked. 

Prompto shook his head. “No. Not yet.”

“Call him. Call him now,” Cor ordered. “The poison is called vindicta. If he’s with the witch, tell him to tell her immediately. If he’s not…” He took a deep breath. “Tell him to pray.”

**Noctis**

Everything was happening at once, and Noctis felt overwhelmed. It was almost like the room was spinning again. 

His phone was ringing. 

Ignis was stirring, asking for him. 

Kimya was barking orders at him. 

“Noct,” Ignis murmured, grabbing at his wound though Kimya tried to bat his hands away from it. “Noct, your phone.”

Noctis withdrew his phone from his pocket and answered it. “Hello?”

“Noct! It’s Prompto! Tell me you got there! Tell me you--”

“Yeah, we made it. We’re with Kimya.”

“Oh, thank the gods. Thank--Okay, okay, listen. This is important. The poison--it’s called vindicta. Did you get that? Vindicta.”

“Got it. Vindicta.”

Kimya sucked in a sharp breath. 

“Is Iggy--”

“Hanging on.” Noctis reached down to touch Ignis’s arm. “He’s hanging on. I have to go. I’m helping Kimya.”

“Okay! Good luck, Noct! Bye!”

Noctis pocketed his phone and turned to the Witch of the Woods. “Do you know that poison?”

“Know it, I do.” She frowned and shook her head. “A terrible poison it is. We must move quickly if we are to save him.”

“He’s waking up.” Noct felt sick at the thought of hurting Ignis, even if it meant saving him. 

“Now, young man. Hold him you must.”

But Ignis was fully awake now, sitting up, grabbing his shoulder with one clawed hand, clutching his chest with the other. 

“Noct, I can’t--” His voice dissolved in a whimper. “I can’t--”

“Hold him!” Kimya ordered, tearing Ignis’s hand away from his wound and wiping the gash--viciously, Noct thought--with a rag soaked in some sort of medicinal solution. 

Ignis cried out at the contact. 

“She’s helping, Iggy. She’s helping,” Noctis soothed. He moved behind his friend and grabbed hold of his arms. 

Ignis nodded, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his teeth. 

“There, there, lad,” Kimya murmured. “Lie down. Lie down now. There’s a good lad, you are.”

Ignis laid back down on the table. “I’m sorry,” he panted. “I’m sorry. I just… I can’t… I can’t breathe.”

“We’re helping, Specs. Don’t worry,” Noct assured him. 

Kimya motioned to Noct, and they turned Ignis onto his uninjured shoulder. “This will hurt, young man,” she told her patient. 

“I’ve got you, Ignis,” Noctis whispered, one hand on Ignis’s heaving back, the other on his arm. 

“I know,” Ignis said faintly. He sucked in a ragged breath, then seemed spent by the effort of breathing and laid his head down on the table. “Proceed,” he rasped.

Kimya held a clay goblet under Ignis’s elevated wound with one hand, then began to cut into the wound with the other. 

Ignis cried out in what must have been agony, turning his face toward the table, biting at the fabric of his open shirt. 

“Almost there, buddy. Almost there.” Noctis swallowed the lump in his throat and lowered his forehead against Ignis’s mussed, sweaty hair, wishing he could will strength and wellness into his friend’s body.

The Witch of the Woods continued working at the wound, cutting, pressing, and draining, and Ignis’s whole body tensed and shivered with the pain. He kept the fabric of his shirt between his teeth, biting hard, yelling into it, and Noctis took his friend’s grasping, trembling hand and held it tight. 

“Hold him!” Kimya snapped after minutes that seemed like hours. “I’m getting to the worst of it, I am.”

Noctis hopped up on the table and drew Ignis into his arms. “I’ve got you,” he murmured. “I’ve got you, Ignis.”

Kimya cut, and Ignis screamed, back arching violently. Noctis held him tight, keeping him as still as he could. His pulse skipped when Ignis uttered an anguished cry and collapsed bonelessly against him. He looked at Kimya, eyes wide, heart aching. 

“Lives, he does,” she told him. “Fainted. Probably for the best, it is.” She pressed the wound with the flat of the blade. “There. That’s as much draining as I can do.” She set down the cup and knife and pushed a gauze bandage hard against the wound, then began wrapping the bandage in place with more gauze. 

“What now?” Noctis asked, pushing sweaty bangs from his eyes. “What now?”

“Now the antidote. With as virulent a poison as vindicta in his blood, an antidote won’t even work until you drain some of it out, it won’t. Now lay him flat you must.”

Noctis slid off the table, careful not to jostle Ignis too much, not able to keep himself from checking his friend’s pulse. He watched, anxious, as Kimya mixed several herbs and liquids into the cup that contained the poison and blood she’d drained from Ignis’s shoulder. 

“Now what?”

She shot him an impatient look, then sighed. “I inject this mixture into his heart, I do, and hope we were not too late.”


	9. Shot through the Heart

**Noctis**

“His heart? You’re going to--”

“Yes, dearie. Stab this young man in the heart I will and directly inject the organ with vindicta and my own special concoction to fight it.”

Noctis frowned. “But why--”

“Powerful, vindicta is. It is strong enough to kill a man in one agonizing day… and it is also strong enough to kill itself, with a little guidance from my special mixture.”

Noctis gulped as he watched the woman draw the liquid from the clay goblet into a large syringe. “Have you--have you done this before?”

“Once,” she replied simply. “Hold him.”

Noctis took a deep breath and placed his hands on Ignis’s upper arms. 

“Now find out if you were fast enough we will,” Kimya muttered, the needle tip of her syringe poised above Ignis’s heart. 

“How are you going to--” Noctis started.

Kimya raised her arm high above her head, then brought it down with a speed and force that shocked the Lucian royal. The needle punctured Ignis’s chest with a sickening thunk, and the witch woman pressed down hard on the plunger. 

Ignis gasped violently for air, chest heaving, and Noctis kept his friend’s shoulders from bucking off the table. 

Kimya jerked the needle from Ignis’s chest and leaned back, watching. 

Ignis’s eyes flew open as he coughed and gasped. 

“Iggy!” Noctis helped his friend sit up, rubbing his back. “Iggy, I’m here, buddy!”

“Noct…” Ignis managed a tired little smile, then grimaced, wrapping his arms around himself and rolling onto his side.

“Kimya--” Noct turned to her worriedly.

“Alright now, he is, although he won’t feel entirely better for a while. Vindicta is nothing to trifle with, and if it doesn’t kill you, it makes sure you at least get sick from it. Fortunately for your friend, he’ll just be sick for a few days, he will.”

“Thank you,” Noctis told her fervently. “Thank you. I’ll--I’ll pay you for the medicine, for your help. I can pay you.”

“How kind, dearie. Put you up for the night, I can.”

“We’ll pay for room and board,” Noctis assured her. 

“What a thoughtful young man you are.” Kimya began cleaning up her medicinal materials and tools. “I’ll fetch you some blankets--and perhaps something to eat. Feeling a little faint, are you?”

Noct nodded to her, then turned back to his friend. “Oh, man, Ignis…” His knees felt weak with relief. 

“Thank you, Noct.” Ignis lifted his head and looked at him. “You’ve gone through quite the effort to ensure my well-being.”

Noctis shook his head, chuckling. “You go through quite an effort every day to look after me, Iggy. We’re probably not even even right now.”

Ignis shook his head, but he was smiling. 

“How are you feeling?” Noctis asked. 

“Quite frankly, I have felt much better,” Ignis told him. “However, I am pleased to be alive.” He raised an eyebrow above his spectacles. “You look tired, Noct.”

Noctis breathed out a short laugh and ran a hand down his face. “I am. I’ll bet you are, too.”

“A bit,” Ignis acknowledged. He winced and rubbed his chest. 

“I’m always a little sleepy after I get poisoned and stabbed in the heart with the antidote,” Noctis said wryly. 

“When aren’t you a little sleepy, Noct?” Ignis replied with a smile. 

Kimya came back into the room with blankets and two pillows, and Noctis helped her set up two pallets near the fireplace. She set a tray of crackers and cheese on the table with the water pitcher.

“Sleep well, dearies,” she called to them before disappearing into another room of the house.

Noctis helped Ignis down from the table and lowered him gently to the nearest pallet. “Let me know if you need any medicine or anything, Specs. There’s some delicious water in a pitcher over there.”

“Sleep will suffice. Thank you, Noct.” And Ignis was asleep within seconds. 

Noctis settled down nearby. He was not surprised when sleep took him quickly, as well. 

**Gladio**

“Aw, look at ‘em,” Gladio rumbled, crossing his arms and gazing down at the sleepers. 

“They’re so cute when they’re sleeping,” Prompto sighed. “Should we even wake them up?”

“Nah, let ‘em rest.” It had been a profound--intensely profound--relief Gladio had experienced upon arriving at the witch’s house to find Ignis and Noctis sleeping peacefully on the floor by her fireplace. He yawned and stretched. “Only a couple of hours till daylight, anyway. We should probably get some shut eye, too.”

“Ya think?” Prompto cocked a blond eyebrow at him. “I was actually considering staying up all night and playing some King’s Knight.”

“You’d better be joking or you’ll be utterly useless tomorrow.” 

Kimya came bustling back into the room, arms full of blankets and pillows. How did one woman living alone have so many blankets and pillows?

Prompto was yawning as he took a pillow and blanket from her, thanking her through the yawn. “Alright, Gladio. Let’s join the sleepover.”

“Rude of them to start without us.” Gladio slid down the wall next to the door. Even though Cor and some of his connections were dealing with the poachers at this very moment, he didn’t entirely trust the rest of the night to go by safely, not with the kind of luck he and his friends had been having lately. 

Prompto spread out his blanket under the table, chuckling as Kimya tossed another blanket on top of him, admonishing him not to let his feet get cold. 

“For a small fee, I’ll feed your chocobo, too, dearies,” Kimya volunteered. “I grow some delicious greens, I do.”

“Sure! Thank you!” Prompto laid with his hands behind his head, bony elbows jutting. “Anything for my girl!”

Gladio fully intended to stay awake a little longer to watch over everyone, or at least to fall asleep sitting up so he could spring into action at a moment’s notice… but when morning came, he awoke slumped on the floor against the wall in a tangle of blankets. He sat up fast, rubbing his eyes, then relaxed when he saw that the others were alright--still sleeping, all breathing evenly, even Iggy. 

He wasn’t sure if the four of them had the best luck in the world or the worst. Either way, they were certainly survivors. 

**Ignis**

Ignis awoke from a strange dream about flying chocobos. He opened his eyes to see Noct snoring softly on a pallet nearby. For a moment, he frowned, not recognizing the walls or the floor or the fireplace. Then he remembered his agonizing ordeal, and he sighed, rubbing at his chest. It felt tender and sore. He sat up gingerly, wincing at a stab of pain through his shoulder, but as he straightened, he realized how easy it was to breathe, and he noted the absence of nausea. 

“Glad to see you’re awake.”

Ignis turned toward the low, rumbling voice to see Gladio leaning against the wall near the door of the House of Hexes. He smiled. “Good morning, Gladio.”

“Glad to see you’re alive,” Gladio amended.

“As am I.”

“How are ya feeling?”

“Better. And you? Has your wound healed?”

“Yep.” 

“Excellent.” Ignis began buttoning up his shirt. “Where’s Prompto?”

“Table.” Gladio pointed, and Ignis turned to see Prompto sprawled under the table--the table upon which Kimya had saved the advisor’s life.

“Where is our hostess? I would like to thank her now that I have my wits about me.”

“She’s outside, gathering herbs or something.”

Ignis stood carefully. His legs seemed a little unsteady, but he managed to take a few steps toward the table. 

“Easy there, Specs.” Gladio moved toward him. “Need a hand?”

“I can manage. Thank you.” He rotated his injured shoulder experimentally, satisfied to experience nothing more than a brief twinge of discomfort. “Astounding. I’ll have to get her recipe for the antidote.”

“Speaking of recipes, there’s some cheese and crackers and water over there, on that table. I sampled some. Pretty good stuff.”

At the mention of food, Ignis’s stomach rumbled. He realized that he had not eaten since breakfast of the previous day. He ate a couple of crackers and a slice of cheese, washing them down with a few sips of water, careful not to overindulge or to eat too quickly. It wouldn’t do to make himself sick while he was still recovering from poison. 

Prompto awoke while Ignis was nibbling at breakfast, sitting up so fast that he banged his head on the underside of the table. “Ouch! Ugh! Where am I?”

“The House of Hexes,” Ignis told him, leaning one arm on the nearby chair. “Home of Kimya, known as the Witch of the Woods.”

“Iggy!” Prompto cried, bursting out from under the table, kicking his blankets aside, and rushing to Ignis and flinging his arms around the tactician. “Iggy, you’re better!”

“Indeed.” Ignis managed to pat Prompto’s side, though the smaller man had his arms pinned in a bear hug. “And how are you, Prompto?”

“Great now!” Prompto released him, beaming. 

“Easy with him, Prom,” Gladio cautioned. “He’s still recovering.”

“Oh! Sorry!” Prompto straightened the collar of Ignis’s shirt and patted down the sleeves.

“No worries. I feel fine.” As soon as he spoke the words, he was swamped by a wave of dizziness. He sat down quickly, managing a tight smile.

“How long did she say it will be until you’re fully better?” Gladio asked.

“A few days,” the strategist told him. “No more than a few days.”

“Good. ‘Cause we’ve got some anaks to hunt.” 

“As long as there aren’t any poachers around, that sounds like a fine plan,” Ignis said. He took another sip of water.

“Cor and his team swept the area.” Gladio shook his head. “There won’t be any poachers around for miles.”

“Good.” 

“Glad to see you better, Iggy! I’m gonna go check on Fedge.” Prompto patted Ignis’s arm, then hurried out of the house. 

“Noct needs to get up,” Gladio remarked, crossing his arms and staring down at the Lucian heir. 

“Perhaps… or perhaps we should let him enjoy a few more minutes of rest,” Ignis suggested. “He has certainly earned them. We fought demons last night, and I’m afraid the battle worsened my condition. I lost consciousness, and Noct was forced to carry me a good distance to safety. He…” His throat tightened with emotion, and he swallowed. “He proved himself a worthy leader last night, Gladio, one who cares about the wellbeing of those who serve him.”

“You’re his friend,” Gladio pointed out.

“Yes, and his advisor. While I usually advise him to spend less time sleeping, I believe I can relent this one day.”

**Noctis**

Once again, Noctis found himself behind the wheel of the Regalia, but this time, he drove at a leisurely pace--so that Prompto could keep up on Fedge and so that Ignis could relax in the passenger seat. It was a long drive, and at their pace, it took even longer than it would have otherwise, but Noct found himself enjoying it. The weather was nice, and everyone seemed content. 

Prompto was flat-out enjoying himself riding his chocobo, whooping with delight, snapping pictures of the scenery and of the Regalia. Gladio quietly read a book, some novel about pirates and ships. And Ignis alternated between napping and giving Noctis compliments and critiques on his driving. 

They took a couple of breaks, stopping at rest areas for snacks and to feed and water Fedge or use the restrooms. Ignis perked up at one of the rest stops when he spotted a produce stand, and he bought several ingredients for a new recipe he wanted to try. Noctis purchased some new fishing lures that he was excited to test on the next pond or river they came across. 

All in all, it was one of Noctis’s favorite day trips. 

They ended the day at the Wiz Chocobo Post, where Wiz was delighted to meet Fedge and agreed to look after her while the boys were traveling and hunting. 

Then they were back on the road, headed for a nearby haven to camp. Ignis insisted he was feeling well enough to attempt his new recipe. Gladio had ideas about the best route to the herd of creatures they had agreed to hunt. 

Ignis’s dinner was delicious. Noct couldn’t find anything to nitpick about it. 

They sat around the fire, talking and laughing--Gladio with his teasing, Ignis’s dry wit, Prompto’s silly jokes, and Noctis thought to himself, _These are the memories I will hold onto forever. These are the friends I will hold onto forever--my brothers. We face danger and darkness for each other, and we always come through it together._

He hoped they always would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... and thus this fic draws to a close! I enjoyed every minute of writing it, and I hope you enjoyed reading it. Feel free to comment and share your thoughts! My third FFXV is finished, and I'll be posting it soon, so keep an eye out for that one. I am trying to come up with ideas for a fourth. :)


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